


The Email

by Ailelie, Cinaed



Series: Enduring Legends [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Male Friendship, No season 4 spoilers, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailelie/pseuds/Ailelie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Tuesday, November 29 2011</em></p><p>In which we meet Ambrose, David, and Arthur. Ambrose receives some upsetting information from David.</p><p>Gen, with hints of Ambrose/David.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Email

_Tuesday, November 29 2011_

The email was waiting for Ambrose as soon as he switched on his work computer. He managed to resist the temptation of the small blue icon in the corner of his screen long enough to check how big a mess Arthur had left for him in his office. Papers covered the desk and part of the windowsill, but the piles seemed more method than madness, so Ambrose just neatened them and let them be. Then he stuck a post-it to Arthur's computer reminding him that his uncle wanted to meet with him and returned to his desk and email.

With a quick glance that no one was around to tattle on him again, Ambrose opened up his personal email account. The sender name brought an immediate and broad smile that was quickly narrowed in concern when he noticed the subject line.

They're taking him.

 _Oh, David_ , Ambrose thought as he opened the email. Ever since the death of his ex-girlfriend, David had been engaged in a long custody battle with Lainie's parents for his son, Shea. Until the matter was settled fully, Shea's grandparents' favorite tactic was distance. They moved; David chased. Christmas was to be no exception, it seemed.

Ambrose hit reply and asked where they were stealing Shea away this time. His email pinged more quickly than he expected. The subject line read "FRANCE." The body was blank. Ambrose winced.

"When?" he wrote back.

David did not reply. The office was filling up, so Ambrose minimized the screen and switched over to the task he'd put off from the previous day — organizing professional development for the schedule changes coming in the fall.

At half eight, Ambrose hit the speed dial on his phone.

"I am going to kill you," Arthur groaned.

"It's eight-thirty."

"You take far too much joy in these calls, Ambrose."

Ambrose grinned. "Most bosses don't make their admins do wake-up calls."

"Most bosses don't have admins who are completely worthless for doing anything else," Arthur countered.

"Eight thirty-one. Are you even out of bed yet?"

"Good- _bye_ , Ambrose."

"I'll see you soon, then?" The only reply was the sound of Arthur hanging up.

Not long after hanging up with Arthur, Ambrose noticed that David had finally written back. Apparently his simple question of when Shea would be leaving for the holiday had broken some dam in David's frustration. The email was massive. Ambrose started reading and managed a full paragraph before he had to push away from his desk and move around. If a father wanted to be with his kid on Christmas, he believed that father should get at least one damn hour of the holiday, especially when the dad in question was someone like David. Ambrose returned to his desk and the email.

He was reading about Shea's artistic abilities and David's feelings of displacement when a scarf fell across his monitor and slithered down his keyboard.

"Slacking off again, Ambrose?" Arthur was unbuttoning his coat by the rack.

"You're late." Ambrose rolled the tossed scarf into a ball.

"It's nine."

"Nine oh five," he replied, throwing the scarf at Arthur's head. Conversation with Arthur was easy and well-practiced. It was also a nice distraction.

Arthur caught it. "Five minutes is not late."

"It is according to your father."

Arthur draped the scarf over his coat. "According to my father I should have fired you ages ago."

"Did you remind him he's the one who hired me?"

The corner of Arthur's mouth pulled into a smile. "As a physics tutor. In high school. Not as a lifetime annoyance."

"I prefer to think of myself as the poor guy stuck with keeping you out of trouble."

"Excuse me?"

Ambrose chose not to take Arthur's tone as an insult, resolving instead to be late with his wake-up call the next day. "Your uncle wants to see you," he said, changing the subject.

"About?"

Ambrose shrugged. "I presume it has something to do with curriculum, considering his position."

"Yes, thank you. I did manage that much on my own. My question, however, was more about the specific topic of concern that required a meeting."

"I didn't ask."

"You really are the worst admin ever."

"One more year," Ambrose reminded him. He had a binary countdown clock running in one corner of his computer screen of how many days he had until he could apply to be a science teacher in one of the charter schools Arthur helped manage.

"I pity your students," Arthur said, starting to pull the door closed between them. Then he paused. "Call my uncle for me?"

"Of course." Ambrose waved the phone toward Arthur, but as soon as Arthur had closed his office door behind him, he set the receiver down and returned to David's email.

The latter half of the email explained the full event of how David had learned about the Christmas plans. One of Shea's drawings had sparked the conversation in the preschool hallway, apparently. Several of the other teachers had overheard and had been making comments to David about it since. The tone of the email teetered between appreciation for their concern and annoyance at their nosiness.

Shea would be leaving in early-mid December and would not be returning until after New Year's Day.

Ambrose clicked reply, but once the screen loaded, he did not know how to fill the white box intended for his letter with words. Everything he started typing felt insipid and inane. What comfort or understanding could he honestly offer? He minimized the screen without writing anything and returned to his work. He dialed the extension for Arthur's uncle and waited for his admin to pick up.

**Author's Note:**

> This section was written by Ailelie. Thanks to jenn_calaelen for a read over.


End file.
